Chapter 12
“ G ive me one good reason we can’t just show up with the army of tree fuckers so they can use their magic to swallow them into the earth, and we can be done with all of this,” Eldridge says, shoving half a loaf of hearth-warmed bread into his mouth.
Vox steers his onyx stare to Eldridge, who is now downing a wooden tankard of ale, but the commander remains unprovoked. “If you mean to insult me, it’s going to take much more than words spoken from the mouth of a dog. It is evident you have the mind of one also, given your suggestion of something so radical and irresponsible.”
Eldridge slams his cup onto the table, jostling the cutlery next to his dinner plate. “Look, I’m not familiar with elven anatomy, but if you don’t have any fucking balls, just say that.”
“My balls are in perfect working order,” Vox says, his emphasis of the word suggesting the term is not common amongst his native tongue. “It is your lack of any semblance of strategy or common sense that displaces me.”
I cover my giggle with my napkin, though Vox’s ears pick up on it anyway, and his attention snaps to where I sit across the table. Much of the castle’s interior remains untouched by the battle, the war room being no exception. The ship sent to Suncove returned three days ago. Sterling negotiated the release of his wife, who was returned to her daughters, in exchange for turning himself over to the kingdom’s custody.
The surviving Baelliarah soldiers are being kept on their vessels, which remain guarded by the elven ships at all times. Aegidale is in no condition to war with a foreign nation right now, and as long as they remain alive, they are leverage. The same applies to the surviving Langston army. While the Langston’s estate is in Aegidale, the family manages the trade and embargo alliance for all of our neighboring territories. Assassinating the ambassador of overseas affairs would be sparking a war that would include far more territories than just Torin’s.
The vessel sent to the Vale to retrieve more elves, and my family, arrived yesterday. My sisters and Blythe are sharing quarters in the west wing, my brothers and Galen sharing another, and Morrinne was provided a small room all her own. She didn’t ask for such an accommodation, but she didn’t refuse it either when she learned Sin had the private space arranged for her.
Private quarters were also arranged for Vox, and Aeverie has taken to sleeping in the conservatory in the eastern courtyard. Everyone else is sleeping where space allows. The entire south wing has been turned into accommodation quarters for the women, children, and elderly, while the men were forced to find room in the habitable parts of the barracks, or in the tents set up outside in the courtyards. Reconstruction efforts have begun on the structures around the keep, and several healers have been sent to medical tents set up across the capital to tend to civilian casualties.
Eldridge grumbles something under his breath, too low for me to hear clearly, but I’m quite certain I hear ‘ moss muncher ’ muttered around another mouthful of bread.
“Slow down, Eldridge, or you might just chomp your other arm off,” I tease. My comment pulls snickers from Sin and Ileana, and a wry grin from Vox. A matching one finds my face as Eldridge turns to me with head canted, his gray eyes narrowing and wrinkles splitting his forehead.
“Remind me again, Wren, why those mundane fucks attacked us in the first place. Oh—I remember now. It was something about a godsdamned bloodwitch. I ought to save Torin the trouble and have a falcon drop your fucking head off at his front door.”
Sin bounces a leg under the table, a habit I’ve noticed he’s picked up since losing Adelphia’s blessing. I place my hand on his knee, but I don’t look at him. I don’t need to. Despite being quick to agitate these days, Sin has been better with Eldridge. He seems to have accepted that no harm would ever come to me from him, no matter how much the two of us may bicker.
Ileana clears her throat from where she sits across from me and looks pointedly at Eldridge. “Perhaps if your friend can contain his mouth, we can move on to discussing why we’re actually here.”
I had asked Sin if I may bring someone into the council since it now serves both of us, and he didn’t object when I told him I wanted Eldridge. After arriving yesterday morning, my family spent the day touring the grounds, unpacking their trunks, and resting. I would have liked to offer Eldridge another day to recover before forcing him to endure this meeting, but there is simply no time. Torin is waiting to hear a report from the Langstons, and if he does not get one soon, he will send more ships to investigate.
Anika and Cassius have been assigned to lead the healing efforts in the keep and have been absent from our meetings, but the four of us discussed this decision at length over the past few days. Sin and I discussed it further in private. He was insistent on making sure I was comfortable with doing what he was asking of me, and I dismissed his worries at once.
This is war, and these are the roles we must play.
Eldridge guzzles down the last of his ale before slamming the tankard back onto the table and letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Please begin, my Lady, ” he says, gesturing to Ileana.
“The mirror has been retrieved and is being guarded in the Great Hall,” Ileana explains. “We’ll use it to reach Torin tomorrow. It should work much the same as when Sin and I used the ring so you could observe Lord Kil— Dusaro’s —address in the market center.”
She glances to Sin, a silent apology for her fumble. He shakes his head in dismissal, his hand propped on the side of his face with a finger near his temple and his thumb resting under his jaw.
“We need to be careful with how we proceed,” Sin begins, taking over for her. “You’ve seen the devastation out there. We’ve lost hundreds, and that’s hundreds of men we no longer have to put between civilians and Torin’s barbarity. There’s also the matter of all the destruction to our architecture. We need additional personnel at our watchtowers while the gate’s being repaired. Half the barracks are scorched. Even the churches in the city are offering little comfort to the city’s residents. We suspect the temples were some of their first targets. A fuck you to our gods from the weapons of mundane men.”
Eldridge scratches the scruff along his jaw. “When you say we need to be careful—just how careful are you talking?”
“We are prepared to react should Torin reject our treaty proposal, but it is not an outcome any of us should hope for. It would be a rejection that would cost us greatly, and there are things I am not willing to lose, so caution will be prioritized.” Sin’s eyes flit to mine before making a round across the council.
“You weren’t cautious coming back here. Wasn’t that the entire point of our alliance with the elves? Restore Source, and all that, so they could bombard everyone and everything?” Eldridge says, reciting Aeverie’s favorite phrase.
The high priestess has kept her distance since arriving on the vessel yesterday. It is for the best. We cannot jeopardize our alliance with the elves, and Sin’s temperament is far too unstable to have the high priestess anywhere near him. Or me.
Aeverie being near Sin would be enough to piss him off, but should the high priestess find herself too close to me after what happened… I fear it might be enough to trigger Sin’s instincts. And that is just one more fight we cannot afford.
“A quarter of Torin’s army was already run through by the time we arrived, but also, we were fighting mercenaries. Disposables. Baelliarah is a mundane land ruled by a mundane king, but willing to war with an isle ruled by a man with god power. Our last war with them was barely over a decade ago, and that was bloody for everyone, but especially them. I cannot fathom them being this eager without having some means of better protection, and given our current state, I’m not eager to test that theory. Our alliance with the elves remains strong”—he nods to Vox who returns the gesture—“and we are grateful to have the additional power on our side should tensions escalate.”
“And are we expecting tensions to escalate?” Eldridge asks through gritted teeth.
Sin pauses, allowing me to take the conversation from here, as I previously requested. Because something tells me if Eldridge hears this from the Black Art’s mouth, the war room will no longer remain untouched from the fighting. I take a sip of my own drink—only jasmine tea with honey for me. I need to be sober for what I’m about to tell him.
“You remember the note that Torin sent to the Vale? The one that offered Sin leniency if he handed me over to him?” I ask.
His eyes pinch when he nods, sensing I’m about to tell him something he’s not going to like.
“Marisa Langston confirmed that I was a large motivator for Torin allying with the Langstons and trying to take Blackreach. The Langstons fault me for Bennett’s death, and Torin thinks I killed his father. We believe this war is less of Baelliarah wanting the isle for themselves, and more that Torin wants me for himself. To kill me or enslave me, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter.”
Sin’s leg starts bouncing again, and I place my hand on his knee once more. This time, his hand comes down on top of mine.
Eldridge’s sun-kissed cheeks deepen to a reddish-purple, veins splitting his temples and neck. I startle as his fist comes down on the table. “You are not giving yourself over to him, Wren,” he growls. “I don’t care what ridiculous plan you’ve got cooking in that head of yours, but the answer is no.”
I don’t allow his rage to affect me. “I was not asking for your permission, but that isn’t our plan, anyway. I’m not stupid, Eldridge.”
“What is your plan?” he asks lowly, tone clipped.
“Torin has shown he intends to stop at nothing so long as I remain free. Given his correspondence with the Langstons, the last he knows of me is that I captured the Black Art, and he believes my blood magic somehow allowed me to indoctrinate him. If we have any hope for Torin to accept our treaty, he needs to think Sin has freed himself from my control. And he needs to believe I’m suffering a fate far worse than death.”
“What the fuck are you saying right now, Wren? Don’t speak in riddles to me.”
I suck in a breath and blow it out through my nose. “I need to pretend to be the Black Art’s slave.”
Eldridge is on his feet a second later, pacing the room with his hand on the back of his head. I rise from my chair slowly and walk towards him, stopping with a few feet of distance between us. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
His shoulders tighten at my words, my attempt to placate him seemingly having the opposite effect. “Not as bad as it sounds? NOT AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS?” He whirls around to face me. “What is it with you wanting to be someone’s fucking lackey all the godsdamned time? Cathal’s, Sin’s”—he ticks them off on his fingers—“and now that you’re finally free, you’re jumping at the first opportunity to go back to being Sin’s lickspittle?”
His words stun me, my mouth popping open, but no words come out. Sin growls from behind me, but I don’t turn to caution him. Instead, I erase the remaining distance between Eldridge and me, and I crane my neck to look up at him. His anger I expected—the personal attack I did not. “You have no right to say that to me.” My voice comes out no louder than a whisper.
“I don’t? Do you deny it, then?”
“No,” I snap. “No, I do not deny that I was young and naive once, and that I foolishly believed I was falling in love with Cathal. Just as I do not deny that he raped me, Eldridge, or that he allowed his friends to do the same. The fact you would ever throw that in my face because I was ignorant is low and cruel of you.”
“Fuck, Wren, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. Don’t try to villainize me for?—”
A hand wraps around my waist, and before I register what’s happening, Sin is pushing me behind him. Eldridge cuts himself off immediately, and the look shared between them has me rethinking their newfound peace.
I grab Sin’s forearm before either manages a word and step around him. “I’ve got it, Sin,” I hiss.
“Is this how it’s always going to be then, Wren?” Eldridge asks, not looking away from the Black Art. “Your captor-turned-bodyguard always stepping in between us? For Slaine’s mercy, you act like I’m about to pummel her to death.”
“You will not stand so close to her while your temper is flared. You will not stand so close to her at all, ” Sin growls. His body is trembling, battling the need to shift, and I note the claws that have punched through his knuckles at his sides.
“She approached me. And in case you haven’t gotten it through your thick skull yet, she’s been approaching me for a decade. She does not need you intervening on her behalf every two minutes, and she’ll resent you for it if you do.”
“She can be furious with me all she pleases, but I will not have her near an agitated shifter and risk being the target of that rage.”
“Unlike some, I didn’t just accept this life when it suddenly became convenient for me. I’ve been embracing shifter blood for thirty years, so don’t lecture me as if I’m about to lose control and attack someone I’ve protected for a decade.” Eldridge’s eyes flit to mine, and I witness the exact second his own words catch up with him, the thought falling into his mind like a jagged stone.
I should have allowed Sin to heal the bruising.
My swollen face and purple neck were the first things Eldridge asked me about when he disembarked after arriving from the Vale. I told him about the altercation with the soldier and how I’d been struck with the mace, my ward halting the weapon’s momentum enough to make it a non-lethal strike. Just a fucking painful one.
So many injuries were sustained that day, a battered face and sore neck were the least of the healers’ priorities, and I didn’t want anyone not practiced in the art of healing to be doing any work involving my face.
A decision I’m now regretting.
Eldridge’s gaze sweeps across the right side of my face, taking in the bruising along my cheek, and the deep purple blotches marring my throat from where the soldier had collared me. I open my mouth to dismiss his suspicions but not quickly enough. Not before Eldridge’s hand strikes out, grabs the Black Art by the throat, and forces him to the wall. I hear Vox and Ileana scurry to their feet behind me, but thank the goddess, both have the sense not to approach.
I storm towards them. “ELDRIDGE!”
“Did you do that to her? Huh? Did you put your motherfucking hands on her, Kilbreth?”
Sin has shown restraint over the past few weeks, attempting to make peace with Eldridge for my sake, but that restraint vanishes the second Eldridge grabs him.
Sin strikes him in his lame side. Hard .
Eldridge is forced to drop his hold, and Sin shoves him to the wall behind him, quickly reversing their positions. He bars Eldridge to the wall with a forearm across his chest, and the growl that rattles in Sin’s chest as he leans forward with teeth bared plummets the temperature to glacial conditions. “ I would never hurt her ,” he vows darkly, his voice more beast than man.
I stop before them, angry tears blurring my vision. “Stop this right now, or I will hurt you both . Sin never touched me. Honestly I don’t know which offends me more: that you think I’d lie to you about it, or that you think I’d ever let Sin put these kinds of bruises on me and walk away unscathed.”
The room goes stale, and Eldridge rolls his head back to stare down his nose at Sin. “Let go of me,” he snarls.
“Touch me again, and I take your other fucking arm,” Sin warns, but I let out a sigh when he drops his hold and walks away.
Eldridge steps away from the wall, muttering a ‘fuck you’ in Sin’s direction, and moves to the opposite side of the room. He runs his hand down the back of his hair, exhaling sharply as he leans forward and braces himself against the wall with his palm, his head dipped between his shoulders to stare at the floor.
“I understand why you’re upset, and in hindsight, I should have told you in private. I do not expect you to blindly give your trust to Sin, but you do need to give it to me.
“The scry will happen tomorrow. You will not be present. And you.” I whirl towards Sin, my hand finding my hip. His pupils are still slitted, and my words lodge in my throat at the restraint in his eyes, as if he’s repressing every urge to sweep me into his arms and carry me somewhere far away from the dangers of beasts and men alike.
“I will deal with you later,” is all I say. I don’t fault Sin for defending himself, but emphasizing Eldridge’s vulnerability by striking him on his lame side, especially that aggressively, was cruel.
I look back to the others. “This meeting is dismissed.”
Vox glances to Sin behind me, and I take a step to the side, blocking his view of the Black Art. “Is there a problem, Commander?”
The elf’s face remains stoic when he looks at me again, but I swear there’s a hint of dark amusement swirling in those ebony eyes. “Not at all… Your Grace. ” I can’t tell if he uses the title to be condescending or not, his porcelain features betraying nothing of his thoughts, and so I remain quiet while he slips out of the room.
Ileana collects her bag, takes a final sip of the mulberry liquid in her glass, and follows after Vox. She pauses when she reaches Eldridge, and leans up on her tiptoes to speak into his ear, her lips rigid and deliberate. “Mention that rapist’s name in my presence again, and I take another appendage.”
Eldridge glances at her but says nothing as she lowers to her feet and glides out of the room, leaving the three of us alone.
Somehow the tension intensifies with fewer bodies in the room. Several moments endure when Eldridge finally straightens and heads for the door, but he pauses in the threshold. He turns so his jaw is parallel to his shoulder, but whatever he was going to say, he swallows it down and leaves the room instead.